Amortentia
by FlyingAboveTheClouds
Summary: Sequel to The Bloody Love Doctor. France and Canada were successful in getting Britain and America together, but now it's time for Britain and America to turn the tables on them, and Britain has the perfect idea! A love potion. But things don't exactly go according to plan when they accidentally make France fall in love with the wrong person.
1. Paris, Iggy's Idea, and Canada's DNA?

**Hello and welcome to my Franada fanfic! Are you ready to get random!? No? Too bad! I do not own Hetalia as I am not Papa Hima. This is a sequel to my other fic, The Bloody Love Doctor (a USUK centered fic) and there will be references to said fic, so I suggest reading it first. And so, let's begin our story~ **

* * *

Solitude can be both a blessing and a curse, depending on how you look at it. On one hand, being practically invisible made things easy. It was a quiet and peaceful existence. It made for a lifestyle that tended to not create many problems; being able to just get out of your own way. On the other hand, however, it made for a lonely existence. It was that primal need for companionship constantly hovering above him. It's natural thing. We're only human, right?

But did it count when you were a country in human form?

"Mattie, bro, are you comin'!?"

Canada snapped out of his trance. It took him a second to remember where he was; the world conference in Paris. He was startled to find that it was already over. How long had he been staring off into space like that?

He quickly gathered his things, roughly stuffing paperwork into his suitcase, "U-uh, I-I'll be there in just a second."

He turned, yelping when he saw a certain Frenchman standing now less than two feet away from him.

"O-oh, h-hi, Francis!"

"Bonjour, Mathieu! 'ow are you doing?" France asked, smiling broadly.

Canada let out a high-pitched whimpering sound, "I'm f-fine!"

France leaned in a bit closer, "Well, do you 'ave any plans for tonight? Maybe you could come over to my house and we could 'ave dinner together."

Canada looked over towards the door nervously. America was leaning against its frame, smirking as he watched the scene unfold. He gave Canada as subtle wink.

The Canadian turned back to the Frenchman, "U-um, I d-do, actually. Sorry."

France's smile wavered for a moment, but quickly returned to him, "Well, zat is a shame. Maybe some other time, Mathieu." He held eye contact with Canada for a few more seconds before turning and exiting the room, walking past a disappointed looking America.

America stormed over to his brother, "Dude! What was that!? Why did you lie?"

"What makes you think that I was lying!? Maybe I _do_ have plans!" Canada retorted, sounding defensive. America raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, so maybe I don't have any plans, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a legitimate reason for not going!"

"You're scared?"

"What!? No!" Canada said, "I just…..I don't know."

America rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Now c'mon, we gotta get back to the hotel."

The two left the conference room. America was pleased to find his boyfriend waiting for him out in the hall.

"Ready to go, dear?" Britain asked.

"Yeah, babe," America said. He wrapped his arm around the Brit's waist, pecking him on the cheek. Canada watched, rather sadly.

Britain smiled warmly at him, "Soppy git." He noticed the look of melancholy on the other North American country's face, "Hey, Canada, is there something wrong?"

Canada looked a tad uncomfortable, "Oh, uh, no it's nothing I'm just-"

"Wishing you'd said yes to dinner with France?" America cut in.

Britain looked surprise, "France asked you to have dinner with him and you said no? Are you feeling alright, Canada?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine. Can we talk about something else?" Canada said as they entered the lobby of the building.

"Hey, look it's France!" America exclaimed. Canada tensed up. Sure enough, near the front doors, France and Spain were deep in conversation. Romano was standing a few feet behind Spain, looking rather impatient.

"HEY FRANCE!"

"America! Please don't-"

"Hello, Amerique!~" France greeted back in a sing-song voice, "That was a crazy meeting, no?"

"Heh! Yeah! Hey, it turns out Canada's _other_ plans didn't work out, so he can have dinner with you!"

"America! What are you d-"

"Oh, zat is wonderful! You are staying at zat hotel down ze street, oui? I will pick you up here at seven! Goodbye, Mathieu! And I will see you later, Antonio," France said, gesturing towards Spain, "Aw, why are you giving me zat look, Romano? Honhonhon."

Romano looked away, "Fuck you."

* * *

Britain sighed, "Yeah, whatever." He slipped off his coat, hanging it neatly on the coat rack (as opposed to America, who had simply thrown his on the floor _near_ the coat rack), and then lying down on the bed next to America.

America took this chance to climb on top of the Brit. He butted their heads together affectionately, "I love you, Iggy."

Britain smiled, "I love you too, Idiot, now get off of me."

America started playing with the older country's hair, "You have to give me a kiss first."

"Fine, darling," he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to the American's. America, now satisfied, climbed off Britain. He pulled the Brit closer to him, and the European country nuzzled his head into America's neck. The two stayed like that for a few minutes. America absent mindedly stroked the other's hair, liking the feeling of it against his skin. It was then that his mind wandered back to a certain thought.

"Hey, Iggy, Mattie totally has a thing for France, right?" America asked, lifting his head slightly.

"Yes. That poor lad, falling in love with someone like _that_," Britain scoffed, "I was surprised that he didn't want to have dinner with him. He's probably nervous. It _is_ the frog, after all."

America laughed. "Hey, _the frog_ is the reason that we're together," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Britain's head.

"Whatever."

America thought for a moment, "Hey, Iggy. What if _we _set up France and Canada? You know, like how they set _us_ up?"

"And why the bloody hell should we do that?" demanded Britain.

"Oh, c'mon Honey! Doesn't everyone deserve love?"

"What about serial killers and rapists?"

"Well, besides them."

"I'm fairly certain that France falls into one of those two categories."

"You're so mean!" America complained, "I'm going to go see how Mattie's doing."

* * *

Canada nervously sorted through the clothing he had brought. What was he supposed to wear? Should he just wear what he was wearing now? Or would Francis expect him to change his clothes? He sighed.

_I should just wear these, I guess. I mean, I'm getting kinda worked up over nothing. I'm just getting my hopes up. Friends have dinner with friends all the time, right? It's not like this is any different. _

Canada jumped when he heard the knock at the door. That wasn't Francis was it? He hoped to _God_ that it wasn't Francis.

He nervously opened the door, relieved to see that it was just his brother. "Oh, Al. What's up?"

"Dude, why do you look so nervous? Nervous about your date with France?"

"I'm n-not nervous, I'm just – DATE!? It's not a date! It's just two friends who are having dinner together, that's all!" Canada cried frantically.

America laughed. "Alright! Chill! It was just a joke!" he said, walking past Canada into the room.

Canada shut the door, "He-hey, America? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, what is it?" America asked, checking something on his cell phone.

"D-do people like me?"

America dropped his cell phone laughing. Canada got a very disheartened look on his face. America waved his hand to signal that that wasn't what he meant, still doubled over in laughter. Finally, he was able to stand up straight, "Of course people like you, Canada! You're a nice guy! And you never get mad at anyone, which is pretty impressive considering some of the shit that goes down at the world meetings!"

"B-but, no one ever seems to notice me, or even really talk to me…" Canada said, looking down at his feet.

"Well, they don't really notice you 'cause you don't really talk that much or do much. And when people _do_ talk to you, you usually just get all nervous and make an excuse to end the conversation." America explained, "Like with France earlier. You lied and said that you had other plans. Speaking of which, what was up with that, dude? You scared? You seem kinda nervous. Almost like you're having trouble _admitting_ something?" America looked at him hopefully.

Canada just shook his head, "No, I'm fine. Hey, what day is the next meeting? I forgot."

"Next Friday at 1 P.M.," America answered. Germany, having had the foresight to predict another failed world conference, decided that there would be a follow up meeting the week after to address issues that went unresolved during the first meeting, thus all of the countries were staying in Paris. "Oh, speaking of that, Iggy and I are going to London tomorrow morning and flying back Friday morning."

"To London?" Canada asked, "Why don't you just stay here in Paris for the week like everyone else?"

America chuckled, "Iggy really hates it here." He glanced over at the clock and smirked, "Looks like it's time for your little date with France."

Canada gulped.

Oh yeah. _That._

* * *

Britain hurriedly flipped through the pages of his spell book,

_I am such a genius! This will be great! And it's the perfect way to get revenge on the frog! Ha! That'll show him for getting that fucking alien to spray me with a garden hose! _

He was finally able to find the page he was looking for. The title of the page was written out in large, black, cursive letters; _Amortentia_. He quickly scanned through the list of ingredients. It was too perfect! He had nearly everything on the list that he needed at his house in London, and he and America were headed there the next day! All he needed was a sample of the Canadian's DNA. But he needed to make sure that Canada didn't know about the love potion. That was vital. And besides, you can't really just randomly ask someone if you can have a sample of their DNA without justifying it.

_Excuse me, can I have a sample of your DNA?_

_For what?_

_Oh, you know, just because._

Britain looked up from the book, "Hey, Flying Mint Bunny?"

Flying Mint Bunny landed on the desk in front of him, "Yes, Britain, sir?"

"Do you think you could sneak into the frog's house and get some of Canada's DNA? Off of a utensil perhaps?" Britain asked, patting the small creature on the head.

"Of course, Britain!" squeaked Flying Mint Bunny, "Why do you need it?"

"I need it to make amortentia."

The winged rabbit's eyes went wide, "Amortentia? Isn't that really dangerous?"

Britain shrugged, "It _is_ powerful, but how badly could it go wrong? Hey, where'd you go?"

The creature suddenly disappeared. Seconds later, America entered the room, looking rather amused, "Heh heh, poor Mattie. He looked like a nervous wreck. What'cha' got there Iggy?"

Britain grinned, "I have the perfect plan! We'll use amortentia!"

America looked confused, "Okay, what's amortentia?"

"A love potion," Britain stated proudly. He mentally patted himself on the back for being so clever.

America snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. An irritated look appeared on the Brit's face, "What!?"

America tried to think of a way of saying it without offending his lover, "Uh, do you think that that will really…work?"

"Of course it will work!" Britain said defensively, "I just need a bit of Canada's DNA. A good sample. Saliva tends to work best. It's difficult to get hair to mix in with the potion and it's rather unpleasant to drink, so that won't do…"

"A bit of Canada's DNA?"

"Yes. It will probably be easy to get some. Canada's having dinner with France so I just need a swab off of a fork or something-"

"Wait, you're going to sneak into France's house?" America asked.

Britain laughed, "Of course not!"

"Oh, okay. Well then how-"

"I'm going to have Flying Mint Bunny do it!...STOP BLOODY LAUGHING!"

* * *

France quickly lit the candles he had placed at the center of the dining room table. His eyes darted back and forth across the table, double checking to make sure he'd set everything up. He sighed in relief; everything looked ready to go.

"Ah. Thank you for ze help, Antonio!"

Spain stepped out of the kitchen, holding a glass of wine, "De nada."

"ACK! Don't drink the wine! Put that down!"

Spain took another sip, "This is good wine…" He quickly stepped back into the kitchen and set the half empty glass onto the counter.

France walked to the bathroom, checking his appearance in the mirror. He decided he looked all right. He was about to leave, but he paused. What was this look in his eyes? Anxiety? Was he… nervous?

His expression relaxed. Of course he wasn't nervous! He was the country of romance! This was old hat to him. There was just something about that adorable little Canadian. He knew it was _l'amour_. If only said Canadian was willing to accept it; the poor North American nation hardly knew a thing about love. France knew that love should never be forced on someone. It had to happen mutually; naturally between the two people. Sometimes l'amour was stubborn and needed a little help to get moving, but once the wheels started turning, there was no stopping it.

_LA LA LA FRANCE PICKS UP CANADA:_

France tapped his foot as he waited for Canada to arrive in the hotel lobby. After a few minutes, a visibly terrified Canadian stumbled out of the elevator.

"H-hello, Francis."

France slung his arm across Canada's shoulders. "Hello, mon cher, are you ready?"

"Um, I guess. D-do I look okay?" Canada asked.

"You look great, Mathieu," the Frenchman reassured him.

Canada smiled, "Thanks."

* * *

"So, Mathieu, what 'ave you been up to? I 'aven't seen much of you lately," France asked, setting down his fork, "You 'aven't been avoiding me, 'ave you mon petit canadien?"

Canada looked uncomfortable with this line of questioning, "No! That's not it, I-I-"

France put his hands up, "Oh, don't be silly, Mathieu. I am only joking."

"O-okay…"

France stood up, taking him and Canada's empty plates and heading off towards the kitchen, putting the plates in the sink. He sat back down at the table, "You remember what I told you during zat little talk we 'ad a while back, oui?"

_Mathieu, you need to learn 'ow to speak up. No one can 'ear you if you do not say anything. If there is ever anything you need, just say so. I'm sure Amerique would be more zan willing to help you out when you need it. You have plenty of people who care about you. Zere is Angleterre, Cuba, and myself, of course._

_You?_

_Why of course, mon cher. If you ever need anything –_anything_- I'll help you out._

Canada nodded, "Yeah…I do."

"Now, 'ave you been taking my advice." France asked.

Canada felt a subtle feeling of shame rise up in him, "I, um…"

France frowned, "Truthfully, Mathieu. Answer truthfully."

"No, I guess not," Canada answered, looking down.

Sighing, France reached over, taking the Canadian's hand, "Mathieu, you need to care for yourself. You are so shy. You are a powerful nation; you're one of the G8! But, you're too afraid to stand up for yourself. You're too afraid to even open your mouth-" France paused at this last sentence, images forming in his head.

_Come on, Francis, get your mind out of ze gutter! _

France cleared his throat, "Er, you need to open up more! Remember when Japan was isolationist? It took Amerique coming in and screwing with everyone to get 'im to open up to the world! And Japan was grateful after the fact! Quite a while after the fact, but still grateful."

Canada didn't say anything.

"Please? For me, Mathieu? Go out! Make friends! Find a lover!" France winked at the Canadian at that last bit, though Canada didn't seem to notice.

The younger nation stared at the table top, looking wistful. For a moment France felt defeated, until he felt the Canadian give his hand a small squeeze. France smiled, "So, will you try?"

Canada nodded, "I'll try. Thank you, Francis."

"Of course, Mathieu."

Meanwhile, Flying Mint Bunny was desperately searching the kitchen for a used utensil or glass. He had been disappointed to find that Canada and France had already finished their dinner and most of the dishware was sitting in water in the sink.

_Ah ha! A wine glass!_

Flying Mint Bunny spotted a half empty wine glass sitting on the counter. He just had to figure out to whom it belonged. He flew across the room to the archway separating the kitchen and the dining room. He peaked around the corner. The Frenchman had a wine glass, while the Canadian did not. Perfect.

Flying Mint Bunny pulled out a q-tip and carefully swabbed the rim of the wine glass. Now, he had to get it back to Britain.

**Well, you can kinda see where this is going. By the way, I took the name Amortentia from Harry Potter, and I don't own Harry Potter, obviously (or Hetalia for that matter). Sorry, if this maybe wasn't as funny or random! I'll try to get more funny/random in the next chapter! So until next time, adios~ **


	2. Making Potions, Phone Friends, and Twist

**Hey, everyone! I have returned! I can't stop crying. There's this video on YouTube and it was a USUK AMV for the song A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH IT! *sob* *sob* T_T. Ah-hem, sorry about that. I just realized something, I messed something up in the last chapter. I somehow accidently cut a line out. Right after Romano says "Fuck you" it's supposed to cut to America saying something about how nice France's hotels are and then Britain says "Whatever". HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!? And I thought I had sufficiently edited and revised it before posting. Why do I always have to mess _something _up? Maybe I'll fix that and repost the chapter later. I don't know. Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY~**

Each stair step creaked as Britain set foot on it. It was dark and the basement had a rather earthy smell to it. He ran his hand against the wall, searching for the light switch. When he felt the plastic panel, he quickly flipped on the lights. He was surprised to find how dirty and disorganized the room had become. There were open spell books lying about, potion ingredients strewn across the tables, and loose papers everywhere. It had been quite a while since he'd been down there.

After tidying up a bit, and summoning a few of his magical friends, Britain began his work. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the list of ingredients. Flying Mint Bunny glided over, snatching the list out Britain's hands, "Hmm…. honey water…frozen ashwinder eggs…essence of rose…."

As Flying Mint Bunny read the list, Britain went through the cabinets, moving around vials and jars to get to the ingredients. He picked out the various powders, liquids, substances, and the occasional animal parts required for the elixir and set them all out in front of him on his work table.

He opened up his spell book to the proper page and scanned over the steps, "Okay, step one…..add ninety milliliters of honey water…..mix in with seven grams of crushed moonstone. Flying Mint Bunny, could you do that?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Britain," squeaked the creature, swooping down and grabbing a vial filled with a golden colored liquid. Britain continued to read, "Add in one cut up cassowary spleen. The potion should turn an orange-pink color." Britain popped the lid off of a jar, and removed the unattractive looking bird organ. Flying Mint Bunny carefully measured out the correct amount of crushed moonstone and poured it into the honey water. He picked up the ladle resting besides the cauldron with his paws and stirred the contents; something a bit difficult when you don't have opposable thumbs. After Britain felt he had done a satisfactory job chopping up the spleen, he scooped up the material and added it to the mix. There was a puff of smoke and the potion bubbled up. When the bubbles settled, it revealed a thick orange-pink potion.

Britain grinned and looked back at the spell book, "Excellent…okay, essence of rose." Britain took a small crystal vial and poured the entirety of its contents into the potion, "Hmm…. frozen ashwinder eggs." He reached out the jar that was labeled, removed the lid, and reached in, taking a handful of the pearly white spheres and tossing them in as well. The shells of the eggs quickly dissolved in the potion, releasing a dark blue yoke. Britain took the ladle and stirred, causing the mix to turn light purple. "Alright, now for the most important part. Flying Mint Bunny?" Flying Mint Bunny darted out of sight and returned holding a plastic bag containing a q-tip, "You were careful not to compromise the sample, right?" Britain asked.

Flying Mint Bunny nodded, and proceeded to stir the potion with the swab. The potion turned a slightly more pink color. "Well, we're all set with that," Britain stated proudly.

Just then, America entered the room, coughing, "Man, Iggy, it's dusty down here!" he sniffed the air, "What's that smell?"

Britain gestured towards the cauldron, "The love potion. It's all set."

America approached the cauldron, curious. He leaned in close to the potion and took a deep breath, "Hmm…that smells good."

"If you stare at the potion for a while, you'll see a vision of what your heart desires the most," Britain said.

"Um, okay," America laughed. He leaned in and stared at the purple liquid. After several seconds his eyes went wide, a huge smile spreading across his face.

Britain chuckled, "What do you see?"

America didn't say anything. He slowly moved away from the potion and turned to Britain. He reached out and cupped the Brit's chin, "I guess you _would_ look cute in a maid outfit."

Britain squirmed away from him, "That's what you see!?"

"Well, how about you take a look! What do _you_ see!?"

Britain stared at the potion. He squinted in deep concentration until his face became flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly drew away.

"What? What did you see?" America asked, smirking.

Britain was blushing furiously, "Umm… you and me…and uh…."

"And _what_?" America egged him on.

"A-and you were, um…" Britain leaned in, whispering something in the American's ear.

America laughed, "Ooh! That sounds good! I want to try that!" He took the blushing Brit's hand and led him off.

* * *

Canada sighed, sitting himself down on the bed. He thought over the conversation he'd had with France during dinner the other night. France wanted him to "_go out_", "_make friends_", and "_find a lover_". Canada felt rather conflicted. It was nice to know that France cared so much for him, and yet….they seemed like words from a _friend_ to a _friend_. Nothing more.

He tried to think. Who else would have good love advice? Clearly France was out of the question. America couldn't possibly have any worthwhile advice, even if he _was_ in a relationship with Britain; it had been France who had gotten them together. Britain seemed like a slightly better candidate, although Japan was always referring to the Englishman as _tsundere_, which Canada was somewhat able to gather the meaning of after watching Britain's behavior around America. Who else was there?

Canada_ was_ on good terms with Japan. But, then again, hugging freaked Japan out. He needed someone who knew France and also knew what it was like to be in a relationship.

A light bulb lit up in Canada's head. _Of course! Italy!_

Italy was France's little brother _and _he was in a relationship with Germany.

Canada pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed Italy's number. He held the phone up to his ear. It rang three times before Italy picked up, "Ciao! Uh…Canadia? No…Canada? Yeah, Canada! What's going on?"

"Um, hi Italy, do you have a few minutes to talk?" Canada asked, shyly.

"Sí! Big Brother Prussia made Germany go sightseeing with him, Big Brother Spain, and Big Brother France, so I'm all alone at the hotel." Italy said sadly.

"Oh, um…speaking of France," Canada realized that he probably should have planned out what he was going to say, "Er…I kinda wanted to talk about him."

"Oh, you want to talk about Big Brother France! I like talking about Big Brother France! Big Brother France is really friendly and he always gives good advice-"

"Um," Canada interrupted, "Actually, I kinda want to know…" He trailed off. He could already feel the conversation getting awkward. But, it was Italy, right? "Is France in a relationship with, um, anyone?"

Luckily, Italy didn't even blink an eye, seeming to find this a perfectly normal and acceptable question, "Nope! He flirts with a lot of ladies, though. But not as much now for some reason. I don't know why. Why do you ask?"

"Um… I guess I just…I'm- uh…Hey, Italy, you're dating Germany, right?"

"Yep! And I'm on the bottom!" Italy said cheerfully.

Canada was slightly uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation had just taken, "Um, h-how did you and Germany, you know, get together?"

"Well," Italy said, "It was sometime after World War II. Germany was still really mad about me betraying him, and I went to go see him and I said that I was sorry, and I pointed out that everyone else kinda betrayed him too, which made him more angry, but then he got kinda sad. And then he told me that he loved me and I was really happy because I loved him too! His boss was really mad about it but we started dating."

"Oh," was all Canada had to say. It wasn't much help. It seemed that their relationship began in the wake of World War II, because of something that had happened…during World War II. There was drama between the two. Drama that, even though it caused hurt feelings, brought the two together. Canada and France had both been part of the Allies during World War II, but they were on the winning side, and it was all long in the past for them. There wasn't any drama between him and France. Even if there was, clearly Germany and Italy had had feelings for each other prior to that.

"Ve~ Also, Big Brother Prussia told us that Germany was really Holy Rome and lost his memory after he went to war. And Holy Rome was my first love, so it's nice to know that Luddy and I had history together."

Well, that just about cinched it for Canada, "O-okay, thanks Italy. I gotta go." He was about to hang up when he thought back to his conversation with France, "Um…maybe we should hang out sometime." Canada held his breath, afraid of what the Italian might say.

"Sure! I like talking to you, Canada!"

Canada smiled, "Okay. Bye, Italy!"

"Goodbye!"

Canada set down his phone, smiling. _Wow…that was easier than I thought._

* * *

**Random USUK moment:**

America flopped down on his back, pulling Britain close to him, "Mmm, Iggy, that was really good."

Britain was breathing heavily, his face bright red. "Don't…..expect..…me to…..do that...again…for a long…..long time," he gasped.

"Aww! You're no fun, honey!" America said, kissing him on the forehead.

"Hmm…what was I doing before – Oh, yeah, the love potion. I should go and-"

He started to get up off the bed, but America pulled him back down, "No, stay here. Just relax Iggy. We're not going back to Paris until Friday; we have the rest of the week to ourselves. Let's enjoy it!"

"Fine, darling," Britain gave his boyfriend a smile.

"I love you, Artie."

"I love you too, Alfred."

"So…exactly _how long_ is a long time?"

"A _LONG_ FUCKING TIME!"

* * *

**Friday Morning**

Canada rubbed his eyes, annoyed at the rude awakening that his phone had just given him. Who was calling this early? Was it Italy?

Canada reached over to the night stand and picked up cell phone. The caller ID read "Arthur Kirkland". _Oh,_ Canada thought, _That's right, England and Al were supposed to fly back here this morning. I hope everything's alright. _

"Hello? England?"

"Good morning, Canada. Alfred and I arrived here in Paris a little while ago. There's a nice restaurant near the hotel, would you like to have breakfast there with us?"

"Oh, sure! That would be great! What's the restaurant called?" Canada asked.

"Oh, I don't remember the name, but it's next to the cinema," Britain replied, "Oh…and the frog- er, I mean, France will be there as well."

"O-oh, _France_?"

"Yes. Well, see you there," Britain said quickly, before hanging up.

**Lalalalala, At the Restaurant **

When Canada entered the restaurant he was immediately greeted with a loud, "Over here, Mattie!" America waved his arms in the air, ushering Canada over to the table. France was already there, he gave the Canadian a small wave, winking at him. Canada approached the table. There were four chairs; the empty one for him was, of course, next to France. On the other side of the table sat America and Britain, smiling at Canada.

Canada nervously took his seat. France eyed him, "Well, hello, mon cher! 'ow are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I guess," Canada shrugged.

"So," America asked, smirking slightly as he sipped some coffee, "How have the two of _you_ been getting along?"

Canada raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the way America had said that. France gave Canada a playful nudge, "Well, I called Mathieu a few times on the phone, but he said zat he was 'too busy to talk'."

America shot Canada an "_I told you not to do that!"_ look.

A ringtone started blaring from France's pocket. The Frenchman quickly pulled out his phone, getting up. "Excuse me, I 'ave to take this. It's Gilbert."

America and Britain exchanged looks. Britain quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a purple liquid. He popped the top off of it and leaned over the table, pouring the liquid into France's drink which, luckily, was black coffee, so there was no visible change in color.

Canada was surprised by this odd action, "W-what did you just do?!"

"Oh, nothing," Britain said, sitting back down in the chair. He and America smirked at each other.

"What!?" Canada demanded, "What's that purple stuff?!"

America and Britain said nothing. Soon, France found his way back to the table and sat down, "Oh, zat Gilbert! Ah, he is so funny. So, where were we?" He wrapped his hand around the mug of coffee. America and Britain watched with anticipation as he brought the mug to his lips, taking a long drink from it. When he set down the coffee, the two continued to watch him intently. "We were talking about you and Canada," Britain said smugly.

France suddenly felt a very odd sensation sweep through him. For some reason, the after taste of the coffee was not bitter nor even very strong, it was more…mildly sweet. As he breathed in he felt the scent of roses fill his lungs, flowing through him. His vision blurred slightly. His thought process slowed down a bit, drowning out everything around him and washing out his psyche until his mind was left to focus on one and only one person.

Suddenly, France stood up, "I need to go see Antonio. I will see you all later at ze world meeting. Adieu!"

America and Britain's jaws dropped. A look of confusion crossed Canada's face.

"SPAIN!?"

**OMFG! TWIST! You know, a twist that you already saw coming, but a twist nonetheless. Sorry that it took so long to update. I've been bust lately, so I've only had time to work on songfics and stuff. Also, as a side note, for some reason it's in my head-canon that America refers to Britain/England as **_**Britain**_** while Canada refers to him as **_**England**_**. I don't know why. **


	3. Cliche and There's Food In the Cafeteria

**Ta-da! Another chapter! Sorry it took so long. School and stuff, you know. And I've been working on other fics. I'm pretty sure I spend more time coming up with _ideas_ for fics than I do actually writing them. Anyway, are you ready to get cliché!? **

**Please review ;) **

"You did what!?" Canada exclaimed.

"Well, uh," Britain laughed nervously, "We gave France a love potion…and, um, I suppose something went wrong.

They were all standing in Canada's hotel room, America and Britain having just awkwardly explained what was going on.

"W-what!? A love potion!? And it w-went wrong?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how, though," Britain said. He looked around. "Hey! Flying Mint Bunny!"

The winged, green rabbit appeared out of thin air, "Yes, Mr. Britain?"

America jumped. "Dude, what the hell is that thing!?"

"It's Flying Mint Bunny!" he snapped. He turned back to his magical companion, "Are you sure that it was _Canada's_ DNA you took?"

"MY DNA!?"

Flying Mint Bunny looked nervous. "Why? Did something happen?"

Britain gave the rabbit a disapproving look. "Well…"

"Um, well there was a wine glass on the counter in the kitchen, and since Mr. France had a wine glass with him and Mr. Canada didn't, I thought it was Mr. Canada's."

Britain looked at Canada, as if asking for some sort of confirmation. "U-um, I think I remember there being a wine glass on the counter," Canada said, "But it was there when I got there. A-and I didn't even have any wine."

Britain sighed, "Well, this is just great! Do you think it was Spain's?"

Canada shrugged.

"Hey, Spain's staying here at the hotel. I can go ask him," America said.

"Okay. Do that," Britain said.

America exited the room. There was a long silence. Canada stared off into space. He looked distracted by something. There was a certain sadness in his eyes.

"So…he's in love with…Spain?" Canada asked.

"Oh, Canada," Britain said empathetically, resting his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "It's alright, we'll fix this."

"What!? I'm fine! It's…nothing," Canada said quickly, "So….a love potion?"

"Yes, it's called amortentia. It's, well, very powerful."

"Is there a cure?"

Britain nodded. "Yes. The only cure for it is a true love's kiss."

It was then that Canada started to panic. "True love!? France's true love!? How are we going to find _that!_ It could be anybody?!"

Britain would've laughed if that situation wasn't as serious (You know, as serious as a situation can get when love potions are involved). Instead, he rolled his eyes. "Canada, there's always the possibility that it could be yo-"

Canada wasn't listening. He was pacing around the room, rambling about all of the people who might fall into this category, "Okay, there's Seychelles. It could definitely be her. Or h-how about Monaco? Maybe, Austria? Didn't France stalk Austria once? I don't know!" Then Canada paused, "Wait, what if it _is_ Spain?"

"It's unlikely," Britain said, "If it _was _Spain then Spain would feel the same way. And, of course, we all know who Spain really loves."

"Oh, yeah! Romano!" Canada said, sounding slightly more hopeful. "But, still. We don't know who it could be and if it _isn't _Spain, isn't that just gonna make it harder to get France and…whoever to kiss?" Canada sighed, "Are you sure that that's the only cure?"

"Umm…I don't _think_ there's another cure…" Britain said, "Hey Flying Mint Bunny?"

"Already on it, Mr. Britain!" the creature squeaked, somehow managing to lift up a massive a spell book and place it on the desk. He flipped through the pages, stopping at the page that read "_Amortentia_", and quickly found the section labeled "_Cures_".

"So, is there another cure?" Britain asked.

Flying Mint Bunny began to read the passage aloud, "_To cure infatuation brought on by amortentia, one must receive true love's kiss. Due to its strength, it is one of the few love potions that cannot be cured with a simple antidote. It creates a false sense of powerful desire for the heart of another person. Only the kiss of someone whom they truly love can override this. It will not work, however, if the feeling is not mutual between the two."_

"Okay, but is there another cure?" Canada asked.

Flying Mint Bunny scanned over the text, and then nodded excitedly.

"Really!? What is it?" Canada seemed thrilled by this new development.

Flying Mint Bunny continued, "_There is one, less commonly used cure, however. The inflicted person must rub the feces of a bear on their face, and perform a rain dance naked under the full moon at approximately midnight during the month of November."_

Canada blinked, "Um, bear feces?"

They heard a doorknob turn, and America reentered the room. Closing the door, he confirmed their hypothesis, "I asked Spain. He said that he _had_ been at France's house just before France went to pick up Canada. _And_ he said that he had some wine. Then Romano got this weird, pissed off kinda look on his face."

"Well, that settles that, then," Britain said.

Britain and Canada gave America an overview of what they had just learned, briefly mentioning Cure #2, which, in an ominous sign, America started referring to as the "back-up plan".

"Okay, so how the hell are we gonna figure out who Frenchie's got the hots for?" America asked.

Britain almost face-palmed. He cocked his head to the side in attempt to subtly gesture towards Canada, but America didn't seem to notice.

Canada shrugged. "I don't know. I was trying tot think of someone that it could be. Maybe Seychelles or Monaco or-"

"Hey, what if France is still in love with Joan of Arc? She's dead so that would be bad," America said, in his normal, cheerful tone.

Canada's eyes went wide at the realization. "W-what?! If that's true then-"

"Oh, Canada! Look at the time!" Britain interrupted, "We should all get ready for the world meeting! Come on, America, let's go." Britain grabbed America's arm and hastily dragged him out into the hall. "How are we going to get the frog and Canada to kiss?"

"France and Canada?"

Britain rolled his eyes. "_True love's kiss_."

America looked confused for a second before realizing what Britain meant. "Oooooohhhhhhhh, I geddit!" He smirked. "Why is it that _now_ you're all for getting them together? Before you thought of the love potion thing you thought it was a dumb idea to set them up."

"I'm not doing this for the frog; I'm doing this for Canada. And besides…the world meetings usually end in failure…the last thing we need is France constantly trying to rape Spain."

* * *

"Alright. It looks like everyone is here, so if ve may begin-"

Japan quickly raised his hand. "Wait, Germany-san. Mr. France and Mr. Spain are not here."

"Hmm…you're right," Germany said. His eyes wandered up and down the table, "Romano doesn't seem to be here either. Would someone please call them?"

There was no need, however; just then, the door burst open. An infuriated Romano stepped in. He was gripping a rope. "Alright, come on you horny bastard!" he called over his shoulder. He gave a hard tug to the rope and France stumbled into the room. France's clothing looked loosely strung on him, as if he had been forced into them. There was a piece of duct tape covering his mouth.

Britain glanced at Canada, who looked bewildered much like everyone else in the room, and sighed, "Oh dear…"

Spain soon walked in, smiling. "Buenos tardes, everyone!"

Romano was now trying to force France into a chair. He managed to _somewhat _restrain the Frenchman with one hand while he used the other to tie him to the chair using the rope.

"Romano, you're so cute when you're angry!" Spain chirped. Romano grunted and sat down in the empty chair next to France. Spain happily took the seat on the other side of Romano.

Germany didn't bother to ask, not even trying to imagine what convoluted story he would get if he did so. "Er- alright, let's begin. As you remember, last week we discussed…."

The meeting went smoothly to an extent, at least for the first five or so minutes. Once someone became mildly annoyed, it didn't take long for things to escalate into a full-on brawl. Today, that person was Armenia, who was infuriated with Hungary after she pardoned a man who was convicted of murdering an Armenian lieutenant. Then, of course, Azerbaijan stepped in, making things even worse. Several countries stood rushed over, trying to separate the three women.

"Ah! Romano! Help!" Italy called out, trying to pull Hungary away. "Oh!" Italy winced in pain as Armenia's fist missed Hungary and hit the Italian square in the forehead.

Romano jumped up, "Oy! Say sorry to my fratello!" Romano, almost literally, threw himself into the fight.

France watched quietly, not that he had a choice considering the rope that bound him to the chair and the duct tape over his mouth. He to catch a glimpse of Spain, though he couldn't quite see him through the sea of flailing limbs. He continued to scan the crowd, looking for the Spaniard. Finally, he was rewarded when Spain suddenly jumped out of the crowd, dragging a bleeding Prussia. It appeared that Hungary had landed a pretty good punch in the nose. Spain effortlessly lifted Prussia up over his shoulder and exited the meeting room, presumably to get the bleeding German cleaned up.

_Honhonhon, what a strong boy you are, Antonio! ...Hmm, I wonder how flexible you are…_

France found himself silently cursing the rope wrapped around his waste. He wanted to follow the Spaniard out the door, but he had been tied up by some _completely_ overreacting Italian! It wasn't like he'd been trying to lure Spain to his bedroom or anything! He'd just been trying to strip Spain of his pants, that's all!

He slumped over in the chair, feeling defeated, when he noticed a lack of tension in the rope.

_Hmm? What's this?_

He leaned forward some more, and felt the rope loosening.

_Oh, silly Romano! You can't even tie a rope properly!_

* * *

"Gott verdamnt! TURKEY! GET OVER HERE AND GET AZERBAIJAN TO CALM DOWN!"

The countries had somehow managed to subdue a raging Hungary. Armenia and Azerbaijan were still at each others' throats, however.

Turkey sat quietly in his set, pretending to not have heard the German. Germany glowered at him, trying to pry Armenia's hands away from Azerbaijan's neck. "Turkey! Now!" Germany barked.

Turkey sighed coolly. He halfheartedly waved his hand in the air, "Azerbaijan! Come here! Look, you can set in between me and Ukraine!"

Azerbaijan suddenly paused from throttling the other Middle Eastern country, and looked up to Turkey, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Yay!" Azerbaijan excitedly skipped over and took the seat in between them. Armenia begrudgingly stomped over to a seat on the other end of the table.

Germany wiped a bit of blood away from his face, and walked over to the front of the room, "Now, if ve may begin, then vithout further interruption-"

"Hey, where's Big Brother France?!" Italy called out.

Romano whipped around, "W-what!?" He dashed over to the chair where France had been sitting. "DAMMIT! The rope is on the damn floor!" Romano's eyes darted around the room, "Che palle! Where the hell is Spain!?"

"Ve~ He went to go help Big Brother Prussia clean up his face!"

"WHAAAAAAAT!? HE"S GOING TO FUCK ANTONIO!" Romano dashed out of the room

Hungary and Japan's heads suddenly perked up. _Did somebody say fuck?_

The two otakus fled out of the room.

"America," Britain hissed, "We should probably go and-"

"Yeah yeah yeah. C'mon, Mattie!" America pulled the Canadian out of the room and Britain followed.

Italy stood up and leaned over the table, craning his neck to see where they were going, "Are they going to try to find Big Brother Spain?"

"Yeah, come on! Let's go too!" said Belgium, heading towards the exit.

Germany threw himself in front of the door. "Nein! No one else is leaving this meeting! This is exactly why I vanted to have a second meeting this veek; because every damn time ve try to do this, someone starts fighting or starts ranting about something stupid or starts talking about food-!"

Italy's eyes started watering. "I-it makes you angry when I talk about food, G-G-Germany?"

"Uh-, I…vell, F-Feli, n-nein, i-it's not just you who talks about food, it's-"

Suddenly the door burst open, revealing an excited looking Prussia, his nose still bleeding slightly. "GUYS, YOU'VE GOT TO SEE THIS! FRANCEY-PANTS IS TRYING TO JUMP TONIO AND ROMANO IS _NOT_ HAPPY! KESESESE!~"

The countries were silent for a few seconds before they all sprinted through the door.

Germany sighed, suddenly finding himself to be the only person in the now empty conference room.

* * *

America, Canada, and Britain were surprised to see that all of the other countries had formed a crowd around the scene unfolding in the hall. Many were cheering and several were taking pictures.

Britain raised an eyebrow, looking behind him, "But…how did they get here before us-?"

"-AND YOU CAN TAKE THAT TO THE BANK, BASTARDO!"

America, being the tallest of the three, was able to look over the crowd. "Aw, man…that must hurt."

"What? What happened?" Canada asked.

America wrapped his arms around Canada's waist and hoisted him up slightly so that he could see over the other nations' heads. Canada gasped in disgust, "Eww! I didn't know that it could bend that way!"

"Well, let's go stop this," Britain sighed.

America quickly set Canada down, reaching into his pocket. "Wait, wait, wait! I want a picture, Barack will never believe this!"

Britain elbowed his way through the crowd, making hasty apologies. He finally made his way to the front of the crowd, revealing the horrific sight of a half-naked France being pulverized by Romano. Spain was standing over them, trying to reason with them, though he was not doing a very good job with that ("Hey, amigos! Let's all just calm down! You need a cheer-up spell, no? Speeeeeeeelllllllll! Is better?"). Britain chuckled slightly at this _completely amateur_ attempt at magic. He looked around and saw Hungary and Japan, their cameras flashing. "Oy, Japan! What are you doing?"

Japan lowered his camera, "Oh, herro, Igirisu. I am taking pictures."

"Of…France getting his ass kicked?"

"_Noooooo_," Hungary cut in, "We're taking pictures of _Romano_ kicking France's ass. It's evidence of his feelings towards Spain. He's _so_ tsundere. Like you, Mr. England!"

"What does the even mean- you know what, never mind. Can you help me break this up?"

Japan looked disappointed. "Oh. I was hoping that I could get some more pictures, but okay. Erizabeta-chan, can you-?"

"Sure thing, Kiku!" Hungary said, handing him her camera. Hungary let out a shrill battle cry and charged into the fight, causing the cheering from the crowd to become louder.

"Hmm…Erizabeta-chan certainry _is_ strong."

After a minute or so, Hungary was able to pull Romano away. This was probably made easier by the fact that France had been knocked unconscious, so there wasn't much reason for the Italian to continue his assault.

The noise from the crowd died down, and Britain stepped out to the middle of the small clearing that they had formed, "Okay, let's all take a thirty minute recess and meet back in the conference room. Come on, there' s nothing to see here." The countries continued to stare at him. "…there's food in the cafeteria."

Just like that, the crowd disappeared.

"Wow…that was fast." Britain turned around, just managing to grab the back of America's jacket as he was about to board the elevator. "No, America."

"But I want food!"

Britain crossed his arms and sighed. "Anyway…."

Canada knelt down next to France. "Is…is he okay?"

Japan nodded, "Hai. I think that he is arright. I think he wirl be sore in the morning, though."

Romano flailed his arms out, trying to escape from Hungary's grip, "THAT BASTARD BETTER NOT BE ALRIGHT! IF HE IS THEN I'LL _MAKE HIM_ NOT ALRIGHT!"

"Lovi~ You're so mean~" Spain said.

Canada glanced around the room. "Um…where are France's shirt and pants?"

"Eh? I'm not really sure," Spain said, "I think I saw his pants are somewhere near the bathroom. I think he probably took them off after Gilly went running to get everyone."

"So…what happened?" Britain asked.

"Well, I was helping Gilly clean up his face, because he seemed _really_ disoriented, and then Francis suddenly snuck up behind me and gave me a hug. He's so funny~"

"HUG!?" Romano cried out, "THAT WASN'T A HUG, DUMBASS!"

"Well, come on. Let's tie him up or something before he wakes up. Also…there's something that we kind of have to explain…"

**Ugh. Sorry it's taken me soooooo long to update. I'm still sort of adjusting to school being back in session and stuff. Last week I showed my favorite USUK amv to a friend of mine who didn't like USUK and now she's freaking out about how USUK is totally her new OTP *high fives everyone* BUT WHO ON EARTH IS GOING TO SPREAD THE FRANADA LOVE!? \(;A;)/**


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